


Frozen Paradise

by clxude



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aromantic Character, Asexual Character, M/M, ace!sherlock, aro!john, it's totally johnlock don't argue with me, just go with it, they're not together but still
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 02:03:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5649670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clxude/pseuds/clxude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were two frozen souls, simply searching for a little warmth in their frozen chests.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frozen Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> i just really need more ace/aro representation so here we go

“The flat is cold.”

Or, at least it was the first time Sherlock slid up beside John Watson in the dead of night. 

“I know,”

Nothing would ever come of it, not when Sherlock Holmes was in a near constant asexual battle against daisies and John was as aro as an incubus.

“Can I sleep with you tonight? Your bed is always warmer. That’s the only reason, John. I know you’re aromantic and straight and that’s great and-”

It became normal soon enough, normal enough for Sherlock to climb beside John as the sun rose and his thoughts finally, _finally_ , slowed down enough for him to take a breath.

“It’s fine, Sherlock. Really. I was cold too,”

Because John _was_ still cold even after all these years away from Afghanistan; the bullet in his shoulder echoed a tundra through his body as the scar wove a frost mist across his skin.

“I didn’t expect you to agree so fast. I did, but the probability of it was so low that- “

It was a constant, the only one in their lives.

“Sherlock.”

It was a constant, so much more reassuring than quarter-four in the morning violin that would fit perfectly at a funeral. 

“Yes?”

And as they lay in bed, the dark lines under the raven-haired man’s eyes finally fading ever so slightly as the sun rose, John could trace the puncture wounds and pretend they weren’t real.

“Get in my bloody bed before I shoot you in the dick.”

Because sometimes, the smallest marks of all and the happiest notes on a violin hid the saddest truths. 

“I never thought you would say that to me. Expect I did, 3% of me did at least.”

Sherlock wasn’t sad.

“Do I need to ask again?”

Being sad meant he at least felt something.

“No,”

Because Sherlock was nothing more than drugs, intuition, and atoms at this point; he couldn’t feel any more than the ice that froze his windows in the winter and the sweltering heat that filled London in the summer. 

“Then what are you waiting for?”

There was no truth to dance around in this universe. They were two frozen souls, simply searching for a little warmth in their frozen chests.


End file.
